


Splinters of Blood and Bone

by Hydrasnixed



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Depression, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Post-Endgame, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydrasnixed/pseuds/Hydrasnixed
Summary: Clint Barton is broken and there's no one left to put him back together again.A series of unconnected one shots.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Laura Barton
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

The pale grey stone still looked brand new, carvings so fresh and sharp that they didn't need his anxious fingers brushing away imaginary specks of dirt and moss. His hands moved downwards, ripping away the tiniest rogue strands of grass that had pushed their way up through the dark soil. Dead flowers were removed and replaced with fresh; half a dozen daisies, their yellow hearts bright in the fading light. 

Clint Barton sat back on his heels, surveying his work, fighting the need to claw at the earth – to dig down far enough to remind himself that this wasn't just some bad dream. Rain splashed against his overheated skin. The trees, still bare of their spring finery, provided little protection. At his back the green corn fields danced in the fierce March wind. 

'Hey,' he said and then stopped, closing his eyes as the tears threatened to fall. There had been a time when he hadn't believed in heaven, in God or any kind of existence after the heart stopped beating. Hell had been the only concept he'd truly been able to get behind. But that had been before... before monsters and magic and nothing that he had ever been trained for. Clint had held an infinity stone in his hand and he could only pray that this particular soul could hear him. 

'Plantings all done. Had to leave the North field fallow though... floods wiped out the top soil so it's going to take a while before we can grow anything there...'

The land was still suffering from the Snap and then billions of people had been dragged back into existence, placing a burden on the fragile resources. The Earth needed time to heal. Five years, ten years, sometimes he wondered whether it would ever be enough. 

'Cooper's doing great in school, Lila not so much. She's too much like her dad.'

He laughed. A short, hollow sound that danced through the barely formed leaves.

'And Nate... Nate misses you so much. It's like... like... I'm never going to be good enough.'

And Clint wanted to scream, to rage against the universe until his throat ached and he wept tears of blood. How was this fair? How? He wiped the moisture from his eyes, blew his nose. 

'I'll be back next week. Might have the tractor fixed by then...'

He picked up the bow that was lying at his side. Kissing his fingertips he let them rest against the cold, unforgiving stone.

'Love you, Laura.'

Clint Barton stood, trying to ignore the ache in his knees. He supposed that he should be grateful, for the time they'd had, for the time he'd got back. But sometimes on the darkest of nights, when the fire wouldn't start, when the only food they had was a few withered potatoes and whatever scrawny animal he'd managed to shoot... 

On those nights, once the kids were asleep and he was left alone with his ghosts... 

On those nights he found himself wishing that she'd never come back to him. 

He whistled, and was rewarded by an answering bark. A couple of seconds later and a tawny mass of feet and fur hurled itself at him. Clint scratched the dog behind the ears as it attempted to lick his face off. 

'C'mon,' he said. 'Time to go home.'

He set out back towards the farmhouse, the ever eager animal dancing at his heels.

Clint had found the dog at the edge of the property, just as summer had faded to autumn. Tangled up in the barbed wire, it had lost an eye and a lot of blood. Clint took him home, patched him up and called him Lucky. Extra protection, he'd said, to justify the use of the medical supplies. Clint doubted that anyone had believed him. Even Nathaniel had looked dubious. 

But Lucky had been good company for Laura when... when Clint hadn't been able to be there. During the school runs, while he was working the farm and on those occasions when the remaining Avengers had demanded his presence. He closed his eyes. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. 

The world hadn't been ready for the return of thirty billion people. People like Clint, who had land and their own source of food and water had faired better than those closed up behind city walls. The strong had survived. 

But Laura had never been weak.

Clint had watched her fade away from him day by day... moment by moment. No chemo, no radiation, no drugs to dull the pain. He'd wanted to run, to find the deepest, darkest hole on the planet and throw himself in. 

Lucky barked as they approached the farmhouse. The power was out again and only one window was lit, the mellow light spilling out into the dusk. Clint paused in the shadows, looking in. Candles flickered throughout the room and there was a fire burning brightly in the grate. Cooper was sitting at the table, his head down in his books, squinting in the poor light as he scribbled. Nate and Lila were playing. She was swinging him round and round, making him laugh. It looked warm... inviting... like a home. And Clint realised that he wasn't ready to go inside yet. He backed down the steps and headed for the barn. Lucky followed, close at his master's heels. 

The sun hadn't quite dipped below the horizon and a streak of light broke up the heavy clouds. There was enough light for Clint to pick out the boards that needed replacing, the tiles that were missing from the roof. He'd have to get to that before tornado season hit.

'Who's there?'

Lila was standing on the porch, her bow in her hand, arrow on the string. She looked so like her mother that his gut ached all over again. 

'It's just me,' he said. 

Lucky snuffled forwards, giving a low woof as he often did when they got home from school. Lila twined her fingers in the dog's thick fur. 

'Dad?'

'I'll just be a minute. I need to check... something.'

Clint didn't want his children to see him cry. They deserved more than this pathetic mess of a father. He started to walk away but there was a patter of feet. Lila took his right hand, Cooper his left and Nate wound his arms around his Daddy's waist. His children held on and wouldn't let go. 

'It'll be okay, Dad,' Cooper said. 

Cling pressed a desperate kiss to Nathaniel's hair. 

'It'll be okay.'


	2. Chapter 2

'Are you sure?' Banner asked.

Laura nodded. She'd never been more certain of anything in her life.

'I want my husband back,' she said.

_'Did you bring Auntie Nat?'_

_Lila tugged on her sleeve. Breaking the kiss with her husband, Laura looked down into her daughter's eager face. The hot whisper of breath on her skin. Clint let her go and turned to face the judgement of their children..._

_'Nat... Natasha didn't make it.'_

_'It should have been me,' he said one day._

_The sun had set. The sky rust red. The apples were heavy on the orchard boughs. Laura was cutting them up to make a pie. She gripped the knife a little tighter._

_'Don't say that.'_

_Clint didn't answer. He walked straight out to the barn. It wasn't long before Laura heard the thunk, thunk, thunk of arrows hitting their target._

They needed something. Closure maybe? It was the reason Laura was standing here, in a suit that just wasn't constructed for woman who'd given birth to three children, about to go to another planet. It had been a long time since she'd been out in the field. She hoped to God that the old instincts were still there and she wasn't just going to fall flat on her ass.

'Do it,' she said and Banner started pressing buttons.

She screwed her eyes tight shut. Sucked into the quantum vortex, it was only that extreme effort which stopped Laura throwing up in her helmet. And when she landed...

...Laura Barton found herself on another planet.

Up above, in a magenta sky, a vast an incalculable planet dominated the sky. Her body felt heavy, each and every movement took too much effort. The wind battered her skin, ice crystals tore into her flesh. She dragged one foot in front of the other. Climbing that mountain. Laura Barton was a hell of a lot tougher than she looked... had to be given that she was married to Clint.

Hungry, thirsty, her lungs refused to pull in enough oxygen. Laura collapsed, face down on the rock, gasping like a dying fish. She was just lucky that the place was deserted and... a shadow flickered. Laura hauled herself to her knees, suddenly aware of the dampness seeping through her pants. What was it that Clint had called it? The red floating guy?

'Hello,' she said.

It drifted on the wind. Not very useful at all.

'Should I follow you or something?'

The spectre moved away, more slowly than the wind which was howling around them. Scrambling to her feet, Laura went after him. The air was definitely thinner up here. Walking was almost too much effort.

'Wait!' she called out.

It stopped.

'To take the stone you must lose that which you love.'

Her throat closed up. Damn it but she was crying. She hadn't meant to, not in front of this... this... thing.

'I don't want any stones. I just want... Natasha was my friend. I want her body back.'

'Why do you mourn that which still breathes?'

'What?'

The spectre pointed.

Laura stumbled forwards. Clint had been certain. He'd seen her broken body, she couldn't have survived that fall.

'To take the stone you must lose that which you love.' The words echoed through her bones, just as the other voices were brought to her on the wind. She shouldn't be here, couldn't be here. Had Bruce messed up somehow? Laura flattened herself against the rock, watching the two figures on the cliff edge.

Clint took Natasha's hand, his forehead resting against hers in a gesture so intimate that it took Laura's breath away. How could she have been so blind? So stupid? Somehow, if they'd kissed, this would have been so much easier. She could have hated him then. Her husband was in love with Natasha. Blindly and stupidly in love with her.

They pulled apart and Clint slammed Natasha down onto the rocky ground.

At home he was a gentle, loving man. Out here... out here... Nat flipped him over, blasting him with the charge from her widow's bites. They were fighting dirty, trying to hurt each other. All in the name of sacrifice.

Laura felt sick. They loved each other. Why were they doing this? And Clint? Why was he so eager to leave her... to leave their children?

He sent an arrow streaking towards Natasha. His aim perfect as the explosion knocked her off her feet. Clint threw his bow to one side and sprinted for the edge.

'No!'

Laura barely recognised the scream that was ripped from her throat. Clint skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with fear and wonder. And then she ran.

Her heart was breaking as she made her urgent peace with the universe. She prayed that it wouldn't hurt.

That her children would be safe.

That Clint would find happiness.

The edge of the cliff vanished beneath her feet.

***

'I don't know what happened, where she came from,' Natasha said.

Clint wasn't saying anything. He sat at the edge of the water, staring out into the abyss, leaning against her legs. Nat wound her hand in his hair, keeping him close. She couldn't afford to let him go. Not now.

'She saved us both.'

Another innocent life. More blood on her hands. Her ledger dripping red. Clint's hand crept around her thigh.

'Laura was a good woman,' Steve said. A single tear trickled down his cheek.

'You didn't know her,' Clint replied. His voice flat, dull, dangerous.

'None of you fucking knew her!'

He was on his feet now, blue eyes blazing. Even Bruce took a step back.

'She was my fucking life and she's not coming back... This... all of this was for nothing.'

'It's hard, I know but Laura's sacrifice...'

'Don't you fucking dare.'

He was standing toe to toe with Captain America. Height difference aside, there was no doubt in Natasha's mind who was the more dangerous man. Steve Rogers was good, honest and noble. Clint Barton was a killer.

'She's not coming back...' Clint broke away. 'She's not...'

His voice shattered.

'Fuck.'

He dug his fists into his eyes.

'It's time travel, right? So we bring them all back and then we stop her.'

'Clint...' Bruce began.

'Right?'

The other man shook his head.

'Someone had to take the stone.'

'Fuck you!'

Clint slammed his fist into the wood.

'It should have been me.'

Again and again. Natasha caught his hand, knowing that he wouldn't hurt her. Their eyes met and the tears started to fall.

'It should have been me,' he whispered.

His body sagged and he dropped to his knees. Natasha sank down beside him, pulling him close once more, painfully aware that everyone was still watching.

She jerked her head back towards the compound, hoping the gesture was clear enough that even Tony would get the hint. One by one they walked away. Bruce was the last to move. He raised his hand but Natasha ignored him. Instead she turned to the man who had saved her life, who had made that different call. She'd let Clint go once before, lost him for five years and she was damned if she'd let it happen again.

'Clint.'

He raised his head. So lost. So broken. She had to keep him here. In this moment. Others might offer him sympathy, pretty words. But not Natasha. She couldn't do that to him. His pain, the fire he held deep in his gut, needed to be acknowledged.

'We can go back, can't we?'

'Clint...'

'We can fix this, get some more of those particles and we go back. We stop her. Whatever it takes...'

Ice cold water seemed to flood her veins as Natasha felt herself falling.

Falling.

Falling.

An instant of pure pain. And then...

***

Hot tears ran down his cheeks as he picked up the phone. He'd been back to the farmhouse often enough over the years. Kept the power on. Made sure there was a way that his family could reach him. Just in case they ever...

'Dad? Dad?'

'Lila, honey...'

His throat closed up. He didn't know what to say. Natasha's hand slipped into his.

'Dad, what happened? Where's Mom?'

And then the world exploded.

***

The beer was warm and flat on his tongue. Clint tipped the bottle back, draining the last drops. One drink was all he would allow himself. Just enough to numb the mind, to make the world fuzzy around the edges.

A hot wind blew across the fields, raising clouds of dust, coating everything in its path. Clint could feel the grit in his eyes, his teeth, his skin. Another reminder of why he hated Iowa in the summertime. He turned his face up to the darkness, to the wide expanse of stars that stretched across the sky. Behind him, the old house creaked and groaned, the screen door flapping open and closed.

Footfalls in the dirt. Clint's hand twitched towards the knife he kept at his back. The kids were in bed. There shouldn't have been anyone else here. A figure stepped out of the darkness.

'Got another one of those?'

Clint smiled. There was only one person who could get this close without tripping the security protocols. The fact that he had heard her at all probably meant she was going easy on him. He gestured back towards the house and she disappeared inside for a few moments before coming back to join him on the steps.

Light spilled out from the windows, illuminating her pale skin. She'd cut her hair, he noticed. The blonde streaks had gone. A silvery scar tracked its way down one cheek, a permanent reminder of the battle they'd fought side by side. Clint still felt the ache in his ribs, the torn ligaments in his left ankle that were taking far too long to heal.

She took a long pull at her beer.

'Nate cried for an hour tonight,' Clint said. 'He wanted his momma to read to him. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say...'

He slung his empty bottle across the yard, not caring for once where it landed, whether he was on target or not.

'Did you talk to Bruce?'

'Yes.'

'And?'

'He still thinks it's too dangerous. If we fail...'

'...Thanos could win.'

He'd heard the same arguments over and over. It didn't mean shit to him.

'Someone still has to die, Clint.'

'But not her.'

'You don't know that.'

'Now you're talking like the rest of them.'

She laughed. High and bitter.

'I wish it were that easy,' she said.

Her fingers started pulling at the label on the bottle, tearing off tiny scraps of paper and letting them loose on the wind.

'Tony... Steve... Wanda...There's nothing left, Clint. I spent five years trying to get everyone back and now... I don't know what to do any more.'

She shifted, her skin brushing against his. Icy cold.

'You're freezing,' he said.

'I always am, you know that.'

Sharing a sleeping bag while waiting for extraction in Alaska, cold feet trapped between his... but this was Iowa on a hot summer night. Clint changed the subject.

'Don't know why you still wear that thing,' he said, touching the arrow at her throat.

They were talking in half meanings and riddles. Skirting around issues that seemed too big to face right now. He broke his rule and went inside to grab himself another beer. A floorboard creaked above his head followed by the light patter of footsteps. Clint tensed, waiting for the cry.

'Dad?' the little voice called from the stairs.

Clint put the beer back in the fridge. He swept his son up into his arms.

'You're supposed to be asleep,' he said, forcing a smile onto his face.

Nathaniel shook his head.

'There's monsters, Dad. They took Momma away.'

'No... no... no... Daddy got rid of the monsters... remember?'

Clint didn't know what to say as he rocked his son back and forth. Nate had never been a clingy child, not like Lila or even Cooper had been. Maybe it was because Clint had been around to watch him grow up. But now...

'Do you want to sleep in the big bed tonight?'

Nate nodded against his chest. Clint dutifully carried his son upstairs and tucked him into the bed that he'd once shared with Laura, amongst sheets and pillow that had long since lost the essence of her.

'Chocolate chip cookie?' Nathaniel asked.

'I'll go get him.'

He went across the hall and found the stuffed dog, picking off the scraps of dirt and food before placing it the little boy's arms.

'Sleep tight.'

'Dad?'

'Yeah?'

'Can we have pancakes tomorrow?'

'Sure.'

'With ice cream?'

Clint pressed a kiss to Nate's hair.

'Nice try, kid.'

Long lashes brushed fluttered shut against plump cheeks. Clint turned around to see Natasha watching him from the doorway. He shooed her from the room, closing the door behind them.

'Maybe Bruce has a point,' Natasha said.

'What?'

'You're not going to leave them, Clint. We both know that.'

The hot flame of anger flashed high and then faded. She looked as weary as he did. Bone tired. Eyes too bright in pale skin. She was right. Clint wasn't going anywhere.

'The guest room's made up... if you want to stay?'

She nodded. He thought about finding her a pair of Laura's pyjamas but quickly realised what a bad idea that actually was. His wife's clothes still hung in the closet, her make up and toiletries in the bathroom, all old and faded with time. Clint knew he should throw them all out. He just couldn't... not yet.

There was freshly folded laundry waiting in the hall closet. He found Natasha a T-shirt, new and clean, a pair of his boxers to go underneath. Clint placed them on the bed.

'Here. You know where everything is.'

'Thanks.'

She stripped off her shirt, replacing it with his. Her fingers rubbed at the fabric.

'I'm sorry Clint, for what it's worth. I don't think I ever said...'

'It's okay.'

He caught her hand.

'I know.'

Clint touched his forehead to hers.

'And for what it's worth...'

He stopped, not sure what he was about to say. It seemed too intimate, too personal. He wasn't ready. Her cool breath caressed his lips.

'Good night, Natasha,' he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains potential spoilers for the Hawkye Disney+ series

Laura Barton had never intended to divorce her husband. She'd believed in 'till death do us part', 'in sickness and in health...' The ring on her finger had been a promise, a bond never to be broken.

Five years ago.

Her husband was five years older, five years darker. Quicker to anger, the barely contained violence was never far from his eyes. Not with Laura, and never their children. If he'd have raised a hand to any of them she could have hated him and moved on with her life. She could see the scars on his soul as clearly as the tattoos that now marked his skin. She'd mapped them all with her fingers, even the delicate spider which rested over his heart.

It was only himself that Clint was hurting. He hid it well at first. The flush of bruises on his skin easily explained by the home improvement projects that he started but never finished. He laughed at himself, called himself stupid, clumsy.

And then came that terrible day when Lila came home from school early and seen her dad in the bathroom. Mirror broken, the blood running freely from his fist. Clint had thought he'd been alone. He hadn't known what to do.

Laura had found them both in the kitchen, tears mixed with blood. Lila was screaming, the harsh horrific cry of a child in pain. Clint was trying to comfort her but was too lost, too hurt to deal with his daughter's distress.

Clint had slept in the barn that night. He left the next morning.

The divorce papers came through with a New York zip code. Laura scribbled her name where she needed to and shipped them back the same day.

She ended it because she had to. For herself. For their children. She ended it because Clint Barton was no longer the man she had fallen in love with. His heart was wrapped in silken web. Whatever happened, wherever he was, he was on his own now. It hurt. Dear God it hurt. The questions never stopped.

_'When's Dad coming back?'_

_'Why are you guys fighting?_

_'Don't you love Dad any more?'_

Laura cried sometimes. When the rains fell and the wind howled through the old house, when there wasn't a chance that anyone would hear her.

'You're so strong, so brave,' the other moms told her. She smiled along with them and baked cakes for their fundraisers.

She sent the kids to visit him in New York with a smile and a wave. They were excited, happy. She drifted through the house by herself, deciding to redecorate, to remove any trace of the work that Clint had done. His spare bow was still in the barn and she burnt it along with every arrow that she could find. Lila screamed at her for a day and a night but Laura stood firm. There would be no more weapons in this house.

And the day he returned, with a half blind dog and a juvenile delinquent in tow, Laura hardened her heart. Bruised, battered and beaten, it broke her soul not to dress his wounds and soothe away his pain.

It was too late, Laura told herself. He wasn't a child. She couldn't kiss it all better.

'I'm sorry,' he told her one night when the kids were in bed and Kate had taken Lucky outside.

'Me too.'

He held her tight, his body hard and lean against hers. She could barely breathe. As gently as she could, Laura stepped away.

'You have to go,' she said.

'I know, I just...'

'We're still broken, Clint.'

The dog came back, leaping all over Clint and licking his face. As if they'd been separated for weeks, not minutes. When Laura attempted to stroke the golden fur, Lucky pulled back, showing his teeth just a little.

'Tomorrow,' she told him. 'While the kids are in school.'

'Laura, please...'

'It'll be easier that way.'

Clint bowed his head, his bruised knuckles clenched in Lucky's coat. He'd do as she asked. He always did.

And when he'd gone, when the house was empty again, Laura went through the ritual of cleansing the rooms of his presence. The coffee cups in the sink. A discarded arrow in a dark corner. His favourite plaid shirt draped over the bannister.

'Can we get a dog, Mom?' Nate asked when he got home.

Laura gathered her children close.

'Sure we can,' she said.


End file.
